Tag Archives: new release

Lisabet Sarai Breaks the Rules with Her Genre-defying New Release, Rajasthani Moon

Blog, Guest Blogger, New Releases, , , , , , , , , ,

Fear of Flying

It would have been much faster to fly.

Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

Hence the current tedious journey. Cecily peered out of the window of herLisabet Sarai May post123rfDirigible-14428352_s carriage at the endless

expanse of russet-coloured desert stretching in all directions. The mere sight of all that sand was enough to make her throat burn. She sipped her tepid tea, wondering for the twentieth time why she’d accepted this bloody assignment.

Thus begins my most recent release, Rajasthani Moon, a book that deliberately defies categorization. It contains elements of the steam punk and paranormal sub-genres, plus quite a lot of moderately extreme BDSM and a M/F/M ménage. It features a kick-ass Rubenesque heroine, a billionaire Rajah and a sexy, deliciously disreputable bandit. It flirts with non-consensual fantasies and lesbian attraction. It has some funny moments, not infrequently associated with sex. Oh, and it’s a romance, with what I hope is a sublimely satisfying happy ending (although I won’t tell you who ends up with whom!)

Writing this book involved taking risks. I’ve observed how readers cling to their favorite genres. I’m breaking rules right and left with this novel. Will the market embrace my mash-up? Or will readers run away in droves, terrified of the unfamiliar?

Producing the same sort of stories, again and again, can be comfortable. It may help sales,  too. To grow as authors, though, we have to leave safety behind. We must step out onto that high pinnacle of creativity and let go, defying the fear that we’ll plummet ignominiously to the ground. We have to get over our fear of flying.

Rajasthani Moon is like nothing I’ve written before. Well, that’s not strictly true. Like most of my books, it has plenty of erotic content. What I mean is that I’ve never felt so free as I did writing this book. I gave myself permission to follow my imagination, no matter how wild its suggestions. I found this Lisabet Sarai may postrajasthanimoon_noquote_800difficult at first. The further I ventured out onto my self-constructed limb, though, the easier I found the process.

The result? Well, I’m pleased with it. I have no idea what other people will think. But I won’t worry. That’s out of my control.

And Cecily? She conquers her fear, too, eventually:

The passenger compartment was about ten feet long. Its walls were chest height. A canopy shaded one end, including the brass and quartz crystal control panel. The other was open to the sky, though the gas bag a dozen feet above them shielded them from the most direct rays of the sun. She was not surprised to discover that the floor was covered by multiple layers of intricately-patterned carpets and strewn with fat, multi-hued pillows. The Rajasthanis seemed to have little use for furniture.

Amir busied himself at the controls while Pratan lounged on the cushions, looking rakish and indolent. “Come here, Cecily,” he ordered. “Sometimes the take-off is a bit bumpy.”

Her heartbeat accelerated and her palms started to sweat at this reminder of what lay ahead. She gave him a sharp look. She could have sworn he was suppressing a chuckle.

Nevertheless, she reclined beside him, as he’d instructed. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and held her tight against his chest. His strength reassured her, but she still felt as though her stomach was turning somersaults.

A low frequency vibration hummed under them as Amir started the engine.

“Here we go,” called the Rajah. “Prepare to lift off.”

“Kiss me,” said Pratan. He took possession of her mouth without waiting for her acquiescence.

Amir released the tethers binding the dirigible to the roof. They retracted into their housings with a snap and the gondola swayed in reaction, springing upward a few feet. Cecily’s heart climbed into her throat. She gritted her teeth against sudden nausea. Pratan’s agile tongue wormed its way between her lips, urging her to relax and open, and the spell passed. Meanwhile, his hands wandered over her body, pulling her loose clothing out of the way so that he could stroke her breasts and belly.

His scent enveloped her, sandalwood and smoke superimposed on animal musk. The wolf had not returned since their encounter on Mount Abu, but Pratan still smelt like something feral. He burrowed into her, sucking on her tongue and nibbling her lips, while his fingers teased her nipples into hungry knots. Cecily moaned as the pleasure mounted. She lay back, cradled in the nest of cushions, and allowed him free access.

***

Rajasthani Moon is available now from Total-E-Bound, at a 10% discount, and will have its general release at Amazon and other bookstores on May 31st. But why not get your copy now and save? TEB can download direct to your Kindle or other e-reader.

About Lisabet Sarai

Lisabet Sarai may postlisabetFaceLisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty single author titles, plus dozens of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention.

Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.  She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.

For more information about Lisabet and her writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)

Inventing Herself by Sommer Marsden

Guest Blogger, , , , , ,

Inventing HerselfSophie Calhoun has a good job writing for a hot women’s magazine. Her latest assignment is to do an article about how a strong, confident woman can look deeper into herself to find her centre. The only problem is Sophie feels lost. On a whim one morning, looking for the answers to her unwritten article and the silent turmoil in her heart, she takes a hike. In the wilderness she finds a very large man sitting alone, calm and still and smiling – everything Sophie wants to be. When he opens his eyes and that smile is directed at her, Sophie begins to find herself…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US

*****

Excerpt:

‘Now we move into downward dog.’ Joel’s rich caramel voice smoothed over Sophie.

If only she could feel gooey and bendy like caramel. Instead, she felt awkward and clumsy. She pushed back with the heels of her hands as she’d been instructed. Tried to “sink” into the stretch with the heels of her feet.

All she could think was what if I slip? What does my ass look like? And, of course, who farted?

Turned out that wasn’t so much of a myth. Someone had let one go and everyone was acting as if it was no big deal at all.

Which, technically, it wasn’t. It was just a fart, after all. Everyone had gas at some point in their lif –
‘You’re drifting,’ Joel said, his voice very close to her. So close it made Sophie go rigid. ‘Let me help you straighten your pose.’

He stepped up between her spread legs and settled his hands on her hips. Then he proceeded to move her a little here, a little there, until the stretch blazed up her calves and the backs of her hamstrings. It blazed somewhere else too, Sophie noticed as he lingered, tweaking her pose.

When he stepped back from between her legs, his hand stayed on her lower back for a beat before being removed. ‘Good,’ Joel said.

He was big and tall and obviously fit. A shock of dark – almost black – hair and grey eyes. His voice was as smoky and sensual as his body.

Sophie felt colour come to her face that had nothing to do with yoga or being inverted. The class lowered slowly to a plank pose and her muscles started to tremble. In her mind’s eye it was easy to put a face to it now. This man, down between her legs, his mouth on her. His fingers separating and skating over her nether lips. Finding her slick opening and plunging deep, curling to tease her G-spot until she gasped. Then taking her own juices, running up to find the needy swell of her clitoris. Circling and circling until plunging back into her cunt to stroke her most secret places again, his mouth sucking, his tongue nudging, licking, licking, licking until …

‘Now lower down into cobra pose,’ Joel said.

Sophie did, but as she did a noise burst out of her. Her body, on the verge actually coming, supplied the small blip and flutter deep inside of an almost orgasm. The sound was half sigh, half moan, and very, very sultry. Way too sultry for muscle stretching.

Joel chuckled softly. ‘Glad to know you’re enjoying class, Sophie. We’re glad to have you.’

She counted the heartbeats until class was over, she was so mortified. When Joel finally told them to stand and everyone gave what seemed to be the customary “Namaste” a woman in green leggings and a bright blue pullover whispered, ‘Don’t feel so bad. He has that effect on most of the newcomers. Once he touches someone … they’re toast.’

Sophie tried to smile and waited to self-combust.

She nearly set a record changing back into her work clothes, but when she came out Joel called out to her.

‘I was wondering –’ he said, sort of grinning at her.

Sophie caught the gaze of the green-legging woman. She was smiling, her look knowing.

‘Could I … call you? Take you out? Bring you wine and woo you with wild yoga tales?’ He smiled at her and the lust that smile inspired struck right down through the centre of her like a lightning bolt.
‘Um, yeah … sure. In fact –’ She broke off, thinking maybe she shouldn’t say what she was about to say. But fuck it. This whole “finding her centre” thing had taken her very close to thinking she was nuts. Might as well act nuts, right? Maybe Joel was that missing something. ‘How about you come to my place tonight. Bring that wine you mentioned and I can make a nice steak or – wait – do you eat meat?’

He nodded, eyes flashing with amusement. ‘I do. But thank you for asking.’

‘Good,’ she hurried on. Yes, this was it. This was a good thing. Maybe she was just in need of a date. Maybe she was just horny. ‘And maybe a salad and whatever. We can just … we can talk. Get to know one another.’

‘It’s a date,’ he said. He gave her his number so she could text her address.

‘Yes. It is a date,’ she said and hurried out of the studio. Kate was going to kill her!

*****

Bio:

Sommer Marsden’s been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen), and “Erotica royalty…” (Lucy Felthouse).

Her erotic novels include Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, Big Bad, Learning to Drown, Wanderlust and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes erotica and erotic romance for Xcite Books, eXcessica, Ellora’s Cave, Pretty Things Press, Resplendence Publishing and Mischief Books. The wine-swigging, dachshund-owning, wannabe runner author writes work that runs the gamut from bondage to zombies to humor.

Sommer’s short works can be found in well over one hundred (and counting) erotic anthologies. Her short stories have also been included numerous adult and romance magazines–both in print and online.

Gypsy Witch by Suz deMello

Guest Blogger, , , , , , , , ,

Gypsy WitchThe Sacramento Sheriff’s Department is no place for airy-fairy wimps, and Ben McCullough is the toughest of the tough. He tells himself he’s bedding the luscious Elena Lautari only because she’s a babe, not because she’s a card-carrying member of the Northern California Church of Wicca. Ben thinks she’s a feather away from an arrest for fraud, since she makes a living telling fortunes and making charms for the lovelorn. He can’t see her as a lifelong mate even though she’s more than a match for him in the sack, and losing her is unthinkable.

But Elena is the real deal, a modern witch of much power and even more restraint. When her daughter, Gina, steals her mother’s spell book and uses it to shatter the fabric of existence and release an ancient evil, Elena must put reality back in place—even if she loses Ben in the process. Will Ben and Elena’s fragile love be lost with the revelation of her magic?

Maybe, but there are others ready to heal her battered heart. When Ben’s partner attempts to claim Elena, will Ben move aside or move in?

 

If you like what you read, click below to buy the story and check out the rest of Suzie’s sexy books:

https://www.ellorascave.com/author/suz-demello

*****

Suz deMelloAuthor Bio:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Ai Press, and Liquid Silver Books. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift

She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

Her current blog is http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com

Breathe You In by Lily Harlem

Guest Blogger, , , , ,

Breathe You InBlurb

Soul-aching desire was just the beginning!

If the road to Heaven starts in Hell then I was ready to start climbing my way out and Ruben Strong was the man to accompany me. With his devastating good looks, seductively sexy charm and lust for adrenaline he was sure to make it a sensual and erotic experience as well as one to re-awake the passionate, throw-caution-to-the-wind woman I’d once been.

I’d given Ruben something, though, without him realizing, and that gift had come from the man I’d loved before. But I couldn’t tell Ruben. I had to keep that a tight secret even as our naked bodies wound together, sought out pleasure and hit the dizzy heights of ecstasy as one. Because Ruben had my husband’s heart, literally, and that heart was still in love with me, so it seemed, and now I was in love with Ruben.

Emotions tangled with bliss, and fears were locked away as I surrendered to the touch of Ruben’s hands, the taste of his skin and the sounds of his pleasure. I couldn’t deny that Ruben had brought me back to life the same way I had him and there was no way I was giving up that feeling, not for anyone.

Reader advisory – Breathe You In is a romance with themes of love, loss and hope and contains several explicit sex scenes.

 

Excerpt

My new flat felt alive, as if it were a real home. The sweet, grassy breeze ambled from the living room to the kitchen. The pan on the stove was bubbling away, creating steam that clung to the window. The tangy smell of the onions I’d fried filled my nose, and I could hear the TV, only the news, someone talking, but knowing Ruben was in the living room, that it wouldn’t be empty and soulless when I moved from one room to the other, created a feeling of hope in me—one that made me warm and content for the first time in a long time.

I also felt I knew Ruben better for having seen a glimpse into his old life. Understood how much he’d had to change because of his illness. Maybe he was right. Perhaps he would go back to his old job one day. Return to a wild, hedonistic, fast life of racing and globe trotting and leggy women with perfect bodies. I couldn’t show him my old life, or ever go back to it, but it had been nice to see his.

I flicked the pasta off the boil and stood in the kitchen doorway, one hand on the frame, pushing my hair from my face with the other.

Ruben looked up. Stared at me. He pulled in a deep breath and frowned.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, I…”

I didn’t move. “What?”

“It’s just…”

“Tell me?”

He smiled. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

“I had a dream last night, it just came back to me, really vivid.”

“What was it about?” I straightened.

“You.”

“Me?” I couldn’t deny the little thrill that word gave me, to think I’d been in this handsome man’s dream.

“You were stood, just like that, in a doorway, holding the side, fiddling with your hair.”

“Whose doorway?”

He silenced the TV. Put the remote on the tall table by the sofa. “Mine. My bedroom.”

“I see.”

He trailed his gaze down my body. Licked his lips.

“And what was I wearing?” I asked. Part of me was desperate to know, the other part afraid to ask. This was a new way for me to be with anyone other than Matt.

“White,” he said. “You were in white.”

“A dress?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Oh, no, white stockings with lace around your thighs. White teeny, tiny knickers and a corset?style top, you know that…” He put his cupped hands on his chest and smiled. “That made you look really pretty here.”

“Sounds like a very detailed dream.”

“It was. It was hot.” He nodded, bit on his bottom lip. “You were hot.”

A tremble started in my stomach and moved lower. Ruben thought I was hot. Hot enough to dream in detail about me. That in itself was like being kissed passionately. It turned my attraction for him to top level; it made me feel like the woman I had been once.

I even remembered a white outfit like that. It was something I’d taken on honeymoon to surprise Matt with one night. I could almost see his face again. His eyes instantly heavy with lust, his lips moist where he’d licked them the moment I’d appeared in the doorway.

Ruben was wearing the same look now, and he shifted on the sofa the same way Matt had shifted on the bed.

Taking a deep breath, I walked toward Ruben, wishing I had that outfit on, and straddled his lap. I dug my knees into the cushions and I rested my hands on his shoulders, let my bum settle on his thighs.

“Tell me more?” I said in what I hoped was a suitably sexy voice.

Ruben swallowed, frowned a little and looked into my eyes. “We were alone, there was only us there. It was warm, you smelled of fruit—papaya, melon, all things sweet.”

I smiled. “This is a very specific dream.”

He touched my cheek with the back of his index finger. “I know, and it’s all flooding back to me like it was a real memory.”

“Maybe we should make it real, one day.”

“I’d like that.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to mine. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?” he said with a smile.

“I’m not gorgeous, not really.”

He jerked his head. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, the women you must have had, you know, when you and Dean Cudditch were out together, swanning around glamorous places.”

“That was just fun. Messing about, there was never anyone serious. I was too busy traveling the world, being part of the winning team.”

“But weren’t they…?”

“They weren’t you. Katie. Matt must have told you all the time how beautiful you are. I get the impression from you that he was a great bloke, a wonderful husband who made you feel special and treasured.”

I nodded. “He was, he did, but…” I glanced downward, kept that delicate balance of mine on the straight and narrow. “But now, well, I’m a bit thinner than I was and smiles don’t come so easy.”

“I’ve seen you smile plenty since I met you, and each one has gone into my happy memory bank.”

His words made me smile again.

“See, beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. It’s nice to hear someone say that.”

“It’s nice to have a sexy woman sitting on my lap.” He kissed me, softly, and stroked his fingers through my hair.

I broke the kiss and touched his hair too. I loved the longish strands and the way they flowed through my fingers like fluid silk.

He slid his hands down the column of my neck and reached for the first button on my work blouse. As he undid it, his smile slipped, and his eyebrows hung heavy in concentration.

My heart tripped. My nipples tightened. The dark look in his eyes was so sexy it went straight to my head, like a shot of alcohol.

He undid the next button, and the next, his jaw seeming to get tenser with each twist of his fingers.

I sat absolutely still, the tops of his thighs pressing into the backs of mine. Watching his face, each blink, each slight twitch of his cheek and the way he dampened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. It was all making me want to grab him for a kiss but equally kept me frozen, fascinated.

When all the buttons were undone, he looked up at my face. It was a silent question.

I glanced out of the window—nothing but treetops.

I nodded.

Carefully, he slid the blouse off my shoulders, revealing my white lacy bra. It had a small daisy in the center of the cups and one at the base of each strap.

“That’s so much better than my dream,” he whispered, his breath like a caress on my chest. “And you are perfect.”

Words danced on my tongue. Words that wanted to explain that I used to be a cup size bigger and filled out my bra better. That maybe I would again one day. But I held them in, swallowed them down. They had no place in this moment with Ruben. Besides, he looked happy with what he saw.

I reached behind myself, unclipped the hook of my bra, let it fall open, but then held it in place with one arm across my chest.

“Katie, if you want to wait…?”

“No, this is fine. More than fine, I want this.” I let the straps slide off my arms and tossed the bra to the floor. “It feels right with you.”

And it did. I’d worried that I’d feel like an adulterous woman being with another man. But with Ruben, well, it was different. Matt was part of it. Part of Ruben. Part of us.

Ruben collected the slight weight of the undersides of my breasts in his hands. Watching his own movements, he parted his lips and his features softened.

His touch was electric and sent a plethora of forgotten sensations blasting through my chest, spiking my nipples and making my flesh feel heavy and engorged.

I pressed into him, just a little, needing more but not wanting to appear greedy. Fearing if I did that, I’d push myself into a wall and cause the bubble to shatter.

He rubbed his thumbs over my nipples. They were tiny stalks, erect and tight. I stuttered in a breath, the stimulation arousing and wonderful.

He glanced up at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yes, I like you touching me.”

“I like touching you.” The left side of his mouth rose into a languid half grin.

He moved his right hand to the center of my back. Held me firm as he leaned forward and took my left nipple into his mouth.

I gasped and ran my hands into his hair, held him close and arched my spine. Damn, it had been so long since I’d enjoyed this feeling. It was heavenly. Releasing a breath, I watched as the huff of air from my lungs shifted the hair on the top of his head. He moved to the other breast, feeding my nipple into his mouth and tweaking it with his tongue. He massaged and gently squeezed the now damp breast he’d just given attention to.

A type of fever was growing in me. But it was fever of the good kind. Between my legs felt heavy, needy. I had the urge to move just a fraction farther forward in Ruben’s lap and see if the erection I suspected was there was as hard as it had been yesterday.

I stayed still.

Ruben kissed up my sternum, my neck, and found my mouth. He was still fondling my right breast as he kissed me, wetly, hungrily and with a little less control than yesterday.

Running my hand down his chest and over his belly, I found his groin. The folds of denim could do nothing to hide the swell of his hard cock. I itched to hold it, release it. Learn the shape and weight of him the way he’d just done to me. I popped the top button, but as I did so, he grabbed my wrist, pulled back from our kiss.

“Katie,” he said slightly breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” I stilled.

He looked away.

“We can be ourselves together,” I said gently. “Tell me.”

“I like that.” He gently pinched my chin with his fingers and thumb.

“What?”

“That there is a ‘we’. Us together.”

“Me too.” I grazed my lips over his. “So tell me.”

He nodded and released my wrist. “It’s just, well, I want you to do whatever it is you want to do, but…”?He shut his eyes, as though frustrated with himself.

“But what?”

“But, well, I won’t deny it, I’m a bit anxious, you know, about doing this, with this.” He placed his hand on his chest.

“With your new heart?”

He nodded.

I took hold of the bottom of his t-shirt and peeled it up and over his head, threw it down by my bra. “This heart,” I said, placing a kiss over his scar, “is a good, strong heart that can handle me just fine.”

“I’m sure it will be okay it’s just…”

“You want to take it slow?” I shrugged. “I want to take it slow too. We don’t have to go all the way, not if it’s too soon. We can have some other fun.”

“God, you must think I’m a wimp.” A flash of wounded pride crossed his face.

“There’s nothing wimpy about that package you’ve got in your pants, mister. It’s feeling like a whole lot of hot, hard man to me.”

He laughed. “You always say the right thing, you know that?”

I smiled and pressed my palm over his cock, squeezed through the denim.

His face fell serious. “That feels good. Your hand on me.”

“I can make it feel even better, if you want me to.”

He paused, then nodded. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

I wriggled and slipped between his legs, so mine were folded on the floor and my shoulders were between his thighs. I began to undo the buttons on his jeans.

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem is a multi-published, award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She lives in the UK with her husband and a bunch of animals, all rescued, and loves to spend her days immersed in imagination.

Her books are a mixture of full-length novels and short stories, some are one offs, some are sequels or part of a series (all can be enjoyed as stand-alone reads). What they each have in common are colorful characters travelling on everyone’s favorite journey — falling in love. If the story isn’t deliciously romantic and down and dirty sexy, it won’t be written, at least not by Lily. So with the bedroom door left well and truly open you are warned to hang on for a steamy, sensual ride – or rides as the case might be!

Links

Buy Links for Breathe You In

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook http://en-gb.facebook.com/people/Lily-Harlem/100003519563064

Facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lily-Harlem-author-page/200182030094568

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Good Enough to Trust (Good Enough, Book 2 – Going Back) by Zara Stoneley

Guest Blogger, , , , , ,

Good Enough to TrustAn erotic romance, including menage, M/F/M and sex outdoors.

Do you trust the boy you loved, or the man you might?

Sophie has only one thing on her New Year’s resolution list – sorting out her life.

Losing her parents was hard, blaming herself hurt more – but was it really her fault, or was accepting the guilt easier than facing up to the truth?

Retracing her steps was never going to be easy, risking her heart again is even harder – and when there’s two men to choose from will it be easier to trust the man she’s never stopped loving, or the one that might give her the new start she needs?

Available from – Amazon (UK), Amazon (US)

EXCERPT

“No, because I’m not. Are you?” He didn’t wait for my answer. Just gently propelled me backwards until my back met the soft covering of the lichen-covered rocks and my hips tilted forward until I could feel the heat of his cock pressed hard against me.

“I’ve missed you so much, Sophie.” His hand slipped under my T-shirt burning a molten path up my body that left me whimpering. “Have you come back to torture me, show me what I’ve missed out on?”

I shook my head dumbly, because right now my brain hadn’t got the capacity to think, to answer questions, to do anything but pander to my body’s reactions.

“You shouldn’t have come back.” His voice was hoarse, his hand closed around my heavy breast, his thumb brushing over a nipple I knew was hard, but he was looking at me. Straight to the heart as they say.

“I had to.”

“Shit, Sophie.” And when he kissed me it wasn’t the exploration of yesterday it was hard, physical in a way that made me gasp, controlling and yet demanding, as though he had to catch up on all the years in between.

And it made me cry.

I clung to him, clung as though I was afraid he’d go, even though his hard body was pressed against mine, his mouth claiming mine. I could taste my salty tears as our teeth clashed, as his fingers meshed into my hair, as the hunger we’d both kept under control erupted. And I was shaking, trembling with need and anticipation as I tasted the lust in his mouth, felt the want in his body.

He grunted as the button of my jeans gave way for him and his hand forced its way into my panties, his fingers slipping into my wet channel. I lifted my leg, wrapped it round him, my hand on his face as we drank from each other. And all I could do was rock against him, clutch at him, lick him and kiss him as the tears gradually slowed to a stop and a hunger that scared me took its place.

***

To read a longer excerpt visit Zara’s website.